


5 Times Peter Thought It Was Okay

by peachypeachers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, he's trying his best, im a real sucker for these two, protect peter parker ok, so is Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachypeachers/pseuds/peachypeachers
Summary: ... and the one time he didn't.Or: Peter and Tony's perception on basic safety and overall tomfoolery don't exactly meet eye to eye.





	1. One: Sleep

" _I'll have you know Mr. Stark -_ "

"Yeah yeah kid," the man on the other end chuckled in such a way that you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Listen - and don't you _dare_ come up with some wishy washy excuse - I got some free time this weekend, shocking right? Anyhow, you up for some tinkering?"

As if the kid himself wasn't constantly hyped up like the Energizer Bunny, Tony just didn't think he could be more elated. Jesus, not even he ever sounded that excited.

"Mr. Stark, oh man, I mean, are you cool with this? Sorry - I just," Peter took an embarrassed breath, as if he was trying to think on his feet, something he only did when he was about to concoct some bullshit lie. "really don't want to ruin your weekend."

 _This kid's self esteem drops faster than the stock market,_ Tony thought, quite tempted to droll joke about it to the kid, but decided against it.

In hearing the way Peter held everyone above himself, he got a quick, less than pleasant reminder that this was just a kid. A kid who would happily throw himself into an active volcano for the greater good, though his heart alone represented the greater good.

"Promise you kid," Tony chuckled with the kind of light ease he could only muster around the kid, "it's cool. Happy's got it after school, I'm not quite ready to induce premature strokes on all your fellow nerds."

He grinned to himself at that concept. Perhaps he'd actually do it one day, but not while a mere haunted house could send some of these teens into shock.

"Right, right," Peter confirms, a bright lilt still present in his tone. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, after your.. academic decathlon practice? I think that's what it's called."

"Woah," said Peter, grinning slightly on his end of the phone, just as he hopped himself in a seat inside the ever bustling train of Queens. "You got my schedule memorized?"

As much as he hated to admit it to anyone but himself really, (mind Pepper, who never leaves him alone about it) he had. Unconsciously, but something that still took up a space he didn't think was there.

"Don't get used to it kid." He mutters, his inner self proud for having mildly deflected the question, in the same manner he always did whenever someone wanted to talk about feelings. Numbers and logistics suited him much better, but Peter always earnestly, yet unintentionally prodded at the places he guarded most in about ten seconds flat.

"Already am." Peter says with that beam in his voice before hanging up, the grin still on his face long after he shoves the phone into his bookbag.

The train comes to a halt at his stop, (read: another ten gruelling blocks to school) but it felt like no time had passed at all. Time seemed to have that effect whenever he was with Mr. Stark, whether on the phone or in the laboratory or just about anywhere in between that.

Following the cluster of people that leave as well, Peter soon found his street once he got out of the station. Many students other students surround it as well, but only one surly girl amidst the crowd seems to recognize him. Before Peter can even blink twice, their brief eye contact is gone, but that doesn't stop her from approaching him.

Oh shit. It was MJ. He didn't take notice of it earlier, but it's no longer than five seconds before a poorly seethed (read: quite intimidating) "Loser?" escapes the lips of Michelle Jones.

"Oh, hey MJ," Peter manages to sputter, barely returning, let alone making any solid eye contact with her. Rather, he bounces on his heels in an already failing attempt to take attention away from himself. "What's uh, up?"

God, he sounded like an eighth-grader who just touched a girl's sweaty hands for the first time. Michelle shrugs.

"Sky is way too cliche," she says wryly, her eyes briefly looking up before settling right back down on Peter. "So instead, let's settle for you. How's American, white man capitalism treating you? From what I can see, not great for your skin."

Peter blushes nervously, but it wasn't like Michelle was wrong either. As usual, he did a predictably poor job of collecting himself. He was no stranger to the sleepless nights after the Vulture, nor the nightmares that accompanied his less- than-professionally- diagnosed trauma.

"Stark Internship is fine I guess," he stammers instead, followed by a less-than-nervous smile. "I just, haven't been getting a whole ton of sleep."

Sure, he wasn't spilling out his heart to Michelle, but he wasn't exactly lying either. Teenage vigilantism had done it's work on the young Peter Parker, so much so that his worries weren't exactly _oh god do I have a test tomorrow_ but rather _oh god what if i can't save them all._

Michelle raises a brow, the same way she always does when she's not buying Peter's bullshit.

"Alright," Michelle says, waiting for a beat, allowing Peter's nervous heel-swinging to stop before he takes notice. "What do you do there anyways? Tell me Peter, is there just some super-secret to blame for your newfound sleep loss?"

Before Peter can even think of a proper answer, a buzz fills the street and the light on the other side dings, allowing for pedestrians to cross. As the man himself would have done it, Peter avoids the feelings talk by taking this chance to perform some less than discrete speed walking. He just barely manages to carry his book bag with one arm, but like always, he manages.

Soon taking a turn one he's at the end, Peter can't help but feel just a _smidge_ of guilt. He's always figured that what others don't know won't kill them, but kills him instead. However, the thought goes as quickly as it came.

_Spider-Man isn't like this, so why should Peter be any different?_

Though it's something he's trying to avoid, Spider-Man's life always seems to bleed into Peter Parker's, and with that comes the _oh god oh god why can't i sleep why is everything so loud and scary can someone just help wait no no no please---_

The relief that comes with bumping into someone comes a little too strong, a little too fast but it's what he needs. It's brief, but it breaks his train of thought, and that's all he could really ask for right now.

The small yet innate part of him, rationalizes that _maybe i should tell someone_ but he shrugs it off as always, just like Spider-Man would. It's worth the suppressing, if it means that the world doesn't have to put up with whatever Penis Parker feels, so that they can instead marvel at Spider-Man, just like they always have.

* * *

 

"You alright man?' Ned took a quick glance at Peter during lunch, noticing that he looked like he had been ran through a Build-A-Bear cotton stuffer, judging by the bags under his eyes and the messy hair that starkly contrasted Peter's usual clean sweep. "You look… spacey."

"Huh?" Peter jolted back up from having almost left the land of the living. "Yeah, yeah I'm good. Did I miss something?"

As much as he didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even he could properly run on about four hours of sleep.

"Uh… no? You just look," Ned says, gesturing his hands around the room for added effect. Though he's tried to cut back on the Minute-Peter-Walks-Through-The-Door -Spider-Man prodding, his gut can't help but think that this is one of those rare times he should. "out of it."

"O-Oh uh," Peter stammers for a beat, before glancing at his textbook, then back at Ned once more. "Just… homework. Y'know, Math and all."

"You have like a ninety-eight in Math." Ned deadpans.

"Y-Yeah well," Peter struggles once again to think on his feet, because while he thinks it's all fine and dandy, his best friend is looking at him like there might be room for concern. As Tony Stark himself would have it, he decides to deflect the question once more. "Gotta keep it up, hey- did you get a new Lego Set yet?"

Ned's concern quickly fades at that, soon replaced by one of his nerdy, bright smiles that he reserves purely for Peter and all things Star Wars.

"Not yet, but I hear there's a new one coming out?" He briefly grabs his phone, typing something in before looking once more at Peter. "Yeah, next week."

"Maybe we could go?" Peter thoughtfully recommends, knowing that it'd be absolutely huge for Ned. "May's giving me some allowance this week, so I could probably go…" 

Brilliantly hiding his deeply rooted concern for Peter, Ned simply nodded, diverting his attention back to his phone. The last thing he'd ever want is for Peter to feel like he was in an intervention, but upon realizing his best friend was probably running on nothing but soda?

That alone was a goddamn flashing, _'pay attention to me'_ neon red flag. Besides, _if Peter thought that all was well then perhaps it was, right?_ Ned thinks, attempting to rationalize his worry for Peter.

The lunch bell let out a loud buzz at that, (read: ear shattering) and Peter jolted up so fast, so much so that one would think that he was waiting for the bell to ring. Like his usual socially inept self, he merely stumbled to his locker down the hall.

A familiar twinge of drowsiness hit him, but he simply brushed it off as nothing but the cost of patrolling. Not that he regretted patrol one bit, but it often made him all but drop on the floor in a pile of nothing but teenage bones, then proceed to try to fall asleep.

Karen nagged him about it too, but he figured that it was nothing. Karen, MJ, and Ned are probably reading too deep into it anyways, he thought but quickly diverted his attention elsewhere.

There was about three hours left, surely he could muster up enough energy for that. After all, the world needed the heroic Spider-Man rather than flimsy, sleep-deprived Peter Parker.

* * *

 

" _Hey Peter, how was your calc quiz?_ " Karen's chirpy voice rang sweetly once he pulled on the mask, followed by the display of his stats within the lenses.

"Fine," Peter yawned, stretching his legs slightly as he began to walk out of the alley, quickly webbing his backpack to a brick wall as he did. "Got anything good for me?"

He took a quick glance around the city, but it was easier to just ask Karen.

" _Actually Peter, I'd recommend you receive rest. Your blood pressure has increased, along with your heart rate_."

Peter's brows furrowed upon hearing that information. He personally thought he was fine.

"Karen, it's fine," Peter yawned out once again, swinging to a nearby building's rooftop in order to get a higher scope. "Really, I'm okay."

" _Peter, I am programmed to contact Mr. Stark if you are sleep-deprived_ ," Her once chirpy voice grew concerned, almost worried. " _Though I cannot monitor your sleep, my statistics show that you arrive home extremely late, and you often have difficulty concentrating. This is accompanied by your frequent yawning, followed by other signs. Would you like me to continue?_ "

If Peter didn't know any better, Karen was just about ready to contact Mr. Stark. That was usually her solution for all things Peter.

"No, no no that's fine," Peter glanced down at the street. If he was being completely honest sleep would actually feel pretty good, but the boy with zero sense of self-preservation didn't seem to agree. "Look Karen, I'll take it easy, alright? Just… just don't call Mr. Stark. I can handle it."

The AI didn't seem to respond, so Peter assumed that Karen was cool with it. Before he could elaborate any further on hiding his sleep deprivation from Mr. Stark, he heard a sound, more on the lines of a loud _yelp_ from the alley beneath him.

Nearly instantaneous, he hops down from behind to get a better view of what's going on, and though he falters the landing he figures that this will be gone and done in a manner of five minutes.

That is, until he looks up.

_Yeah, this isn't gonna be a quick job._

It's a small, middle aged woman, no more than forty at tops— being held exactly at knifepoint, due to the fact that Peter's landing wasn't exactly soundless.

"Help, help _oh god-_ " The woman yelps, but is quickly silenced as the masked man uses his remaining elbow to hit her square in the ribs, causing her to whimper in pain.

The masked man roughly whispers something to her, and that appears to silence her. Though tempted to web him up as he usually would, Peter's concentration falters once more, and it's like he can't think straight.

Or think of anything, really. Plus, he doesn't really wanna get the woman hurt either if the man decides to act irrationally, though this is a significant step-up in severity from the usual petty theft or beating up.

"Look man," Peter attempts to rationalize as he thinks on his feet. "I really _don't_ wanna turn you in, you look uh, desperate. I got some change if you need some money pal, I could buy you a sandwich—"

"That's actually not," He gripped his hold on the woman's neck, and Peter must've swore that he heard her swallow down a scream. "what I'm here for."

He had this corruption stained grin, much like Toomes. _Maybe this was one of his croons?_

"Uh, alright," Peter blurts out in his usually inept manner, webbing away the knife in a mere second.

His vision was slightly blurry, but that _didn't matter right—Oh shit._ A deep, sharp almost burning pain quickly becomes outspread throughout his lower abdomen, followed by gushing blood _what the hell—_

Turns out he had been flimsy with grabbing the knife, and combined with the speed, strength, and the extraordinary Parker Luck™, he had cut his lower abdomen badly. The knife was also lodged in slightly, so that wasn't ideal either.

Not to mention, his surroundings began to dim slightly in a hazy kind of way, which was strange considering his senses were usually dialed up to eleven or more.

"Whoops," The older man deeply chuckled in a mocking kind of way, as he dropped the woman. "That's just _too bad."_

Relishing in the few seconds he did have to get away before Spider-Man got up, he took the woman's wallet and was off before Peter could properly stand up. The woman attempted to help out of blind panic, but Peter simply reassured her that he had it under control, telling her that this sort of thing happens all the time.

" _It appears you have a severe slice wound_ ," Karen informed him, pulling up his stats. " _Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark? I think it's your best course of action."_

"U-Uh _no_ , no no god no," Peter croaks out roughly in pain, simply trying to get the knife out."Ah… shi—ah, that's just… _great_ ... "

The blade itself is more serrated than most, so it digs at the surrounding skin as he slowly pulls it out, half-tempted to just suck it up and call Tony. Still, his lack of self-preservation rules that option out as a no-go.

" _Would you like to neutralize the bleeding with some webbing?"_ Karen offers, in that same concerned, kind You-Should-Listen-To-Me tone. " _It will not stop the bleeding, but it will minimize it until it can be professionally handled. Contacting Mr. Stark._ "

Another familiar wave of drowsiness comes on in the midst of his already catastrophic blood loss, but Peter simply can't find the strength to resist it this time. It feels like a soothing lullaby to feel his eyelids shut, as he could no longer really resist the allure of sleep.

Horrible timing too, but it's expected when one has been continually resisting the truth of 'take a goddamn break and rest.'

* * *

 

Though the kid usually wandered off into the goddamn neon red, bright and ugly section of the grey spectrum, Tony liked to think that Peter had a _few_ ounces of common sense when it counted.

However un-developed Peter's goddamn frontal lobe was in judgement, ( _seriously did the spider bite deactivate his critical thinking skills_ ) he tried to steer clear of being a helicopter parent by giving him the benefit of the doubt.

" _Incoming call coming from the suit, boss._ " FRIDAY announced to Tony, who was attempting to brainstorm some improvements for the kid's suit.

Peter never really gave him any suggestions other than " _the suit is fine mr. stark i swear_ " so he decided to come up with some of his own. Truly, the only time the suit alerts Tony is when the universe feels like screwing around with both his heart rate and stress levels in some sick game to see which can burst first.

Before he puts the call through, he just takes a sip of his coffee, as if to prepare himself for whatever nonsense Peter has thrown himself into this time. He sighs.

"Put the call through."

"The systems in Peter's suit are currently reporting significant blood loss, and a major cut. Peter himself is currently in the beginning of sleep, not quite in REM yet." FRIDAY says.

Jesus, this is a step-up from the usual ' _hi i fell in a dumpster on the way home to test how far my webbing could go_ ' tomfoolery. Tony could roll his eyes all the way into the back of his brain, but even that wouldn't be enough to comprehend the bullshit the kid has pulled this time.

"Get me coords, Fri." He says coolly, deciding to suit up rather than wait in whatever clusterfuck of traffic New York is suffering. Also, because nine times out of ten the suit alone will jolt Peter back into the land of the living.

It doesn't take long for him to suit up, but _holy hell_ does it take a while to find the kid. To be fair, Happy is much more familiar with Queens than Tony is. He doesn't bother lowering the sound of his thrusters either, in hopes that the sound might return whatever smidge of common sense Peter might've lost.

Seriously, did this kid ever consider the logistics of his teenage actions?

Still on the ground when he comes, Tony only has to lightly kick him with his boot for Peter to practically jolt back into life. He takes a few unsteady, albeit much needed breaths before looking up.

"Return of Peter screws the pooch," Tony says dryly, his eyes briefly meeting Peter's. "frontal lobe still very underdeveloped but kid, where _are_ your critical thinking skills? Did you expect to just waltz home, use your Aunt's first aid kit and put a Hello Kitty bandaid on that... thing."

He doesn't really know what to call it. It's big, it's ugly, and it's Peter's.

"Oh. Uh," Peter stammers, nonplussed for a moment. "Sort of, I mean.. my healing factor and all.. I just.. just figured it would heal faster."

"Yeah, no. No, no and no. Hate to bust up your teenage invincibility complex kid," Tony steps out of the suit, kneeling down to Peter's level. " but you don't get to be the judge of that. Hell, why did you fall asleep did you begin with? That alone is a goddamn red flag."

Peter glances down at his lower abdomen once more, noticing that the once rampant blood flow has clotted significantly.

"It's nothing... really, it's dumb, Mr. Stark." Peter mutters with a familiar tone of teenage embarrassment, as he's currently avoiding eye contact.

"Listen kid," Tony says, his voice gruff. "There's really _not_ a version of this where you get to sweep it under the rug. So, spill."

"I haven't.." Peter falters for a beat, embarrassed but more along the lines of feeling weak. It's something that he closely associates with that sick feeling he gets in his stomach whenever someone wants to talk about feelings."haven't been getting a ton of sleep."

"How much are we looking at, kid?" Peter's eyes divert away from Tony, feeling small under the billionaire's heavy gaze.

"Uh, about three to four hours a night. Around that." Peter says, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Jesus," Tony mutters under his breath, it's truly the classic _'I Think This Is Okay'_ Peter. "Were you just, not gonna say anything?"

"Uh," Peter stammers, a little unsure of what to say next. "Not really.. I mean, it's okay right? With patrolling and all.. I just figured it was.. whatever."

"Nuh-uh," Tony says, shaking his head in complete and utter disbelief at the fact that the kid thinks this is normal. "Sorry kid, but you don't get to decide that. Look, I really don't care if you do one of those all-nighters for a test or something. That's fine, hell, it's your choice what you do after that. But unless you've got a normal teenager's amount of sleep, you don't get to hit the off button on common sense, got it? That includes patrolling."

The Kicked Puppy Face returns.

Peter's body loosens significantly, but the kid looks like he just got lectured all the way into next Tuesday. "Yeah. Uh. Got it," Peter nods, yawning a bit before feeling good enough to stand up. "Church and state, right?"

Tony's brow furrows momentarily, before getting it. He nods. "Uh. Sure, whatever gets the message into that frontal lobe of yours," He gestures to Peter's head with his finger, trying to actually make a point. "Not that I forgot to ask, but how did this even happen?"

Peter's nonplussed speech makes a return, as the embarrassment of it all hasn't quite faded away. (read: probably won't go away until next week)

"Well, there was this thing that was just a step-up from your usual dumb theft," Peter answers, a little less anxious. "And this _tool_ —he just, he had this woman at knife point and god- I webbed away the knife, but I couldn't see straight and I couldn't think straight either so.. it ended up cutting me instead."

Recounting the event itself isn't so bad, but Peter's almost half-tempted to pull some self-deprecating joke about it, but it's not exactly the right time.

"Uh-huh," Tony nods, not quite yet convinced that it's the full story. "Anything else causing this?"

"Well..." Peter says as he looks down, the discomfiture colouring his tone with uneasiness. "Nightmares... I guess. Y'know, Vulture, May, my friends. The usual... sometimes it's a mixture of all of them, and sometimes you're in them too. Just.. people I care about, I guess."

Peter's eyes well up with the mist of tears for a moment, but he blinks them back in order to look back up at Tony.

 _Shit_. Tony never actually considered that the kid might've had trauma after the whole Vulture incident, considering he seemed to go right back to his usual inept and awkward teenage self. Still, he wants to punch himself and his goddamn brain for not noticing it earlier.

Not to mention, it pulls at his heartstrings even more to know that he's an occasional character in the kid's nightmares about the Vulture. Peter might sweep his issues under a goddamn active volcano, but Tony still feels like he should berate himself into next week.

Trying to take Un-Howard approach to this, Tony starts by patting the kid's back and sitting a little closer to him.

"Look, kid. This.. this will probably not go away with your... line of work. Alright, that's the bad news. Good news," Tony chuckles a little, looking at Peter directly with a small smile. "You get better. Better at talking about it, coping, all that good stuff."

Peter's lips upturn into a hopeful smile as well, his eyes a little less dim. "Really?"

"Yeah kid," Tony grins a bit now, knowing that it's finally the right time. "PTSD Veteran, for what it's worth. Free, unsolicited advice from someone who's been in the game of nightmares for a while now."

Peter doesn't really say anything back, but the small, hopeful smile on his face is enough to let Tony know more than awkward, stammered on words ever could.

Helping Peter stand up, it's kind of an unspoken agreement already that the kid is going upstate to the compound. May would probably kill him at the mere sight of Peter's wound, and then bring him back from the dead to kill him again once she finds out what actually happened.

Probably with her bare hands too.

Peter leans into Tony a little as he stands up, his arm reaching behind Tony and at first he thinks it's because the kid needs help stabilizing himself. After all, he's just survived a goddamn knife injury _so—_

"This isn't a hug Mr. Stark, I'm just grabbing my backpack from behind you."

There's a mocking taunt to it and Tony can't help himself and his apparent cold heart and before he notices fully he just _smiles_. He's not sure about the strange feeling in his chest, but it's warm and definitely _not_ a heart attack coming on, so it's probably okay.

Perhaps his heart just grew three sizes bigger or there's just an unspoken comfort in knowing that he's not the only one, and that however much Peter disobeys into next year even, he knows that he can always trust him with things like this.

Things that make his stomach upset because it's goddamn feelings and heart-to-heart and 'are we gonna braid each other's hair now' sentimentality. Still, as he steps back into the suit to re-engage it, the Little Shit has made room somewhere in a place that Tony didn't think was there, for better or for worse.


	2. Two: Roller-Coaster Portal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is purely based off the portal clip in the Infinity War trailer, so it's just my take on it. Enjoy! :)

It’s one of  _ those _ days, a day where Peter was finally thinking that he could do something as _ normal  _ as get on a school bus to go see New York university campuses. Something a regular teenager would do, something that made him feel like he was fifteen year old boy and not a twenty-five year old underpaid mall cop with anxiety.

 

Tony had relentlessly teased him about university, telling him about how his pull at MIT could  _ easily _ land Peter a spot, combined with his already stellar grades. Peter, in response, had said ‘ _ that is if the world doesn’t end first’ _ , but Tony didn’t laugh, not like he usually did.

 

It was weird, but he brushed it off as nothing. Peter was no grudge holder of any sorts, he just didn’t seem to have that same kind of petty itch.

 

Still, upstate was an exhaustingly long bus drive, especially with New York’s insufferably busy clusterfuck of traffic, so Peter simply opted to sleep the way there. He was beside Ned on the bus, and the two of them had watched enough vine compilations for the day. 

 

Not to mention, after his- l _ ess-than -cordial  _ run in with Mr. Stark, he really was trying to heed Tony’s advice about sleep.

 

There’s faint noises outside, one of them a little more strange than the others but Peter doesn’t exactly pay attention to it. It could be some  _ pissed _ off soccer mom with road rage, or just construction, or just about anything in between. It’s a rarity that he allows himself to slack like this anyways, especially after the Vulture. 

 

There’s a faint tingling sensation in the back of his neck, but Peter brushes it off as an itch.

 

“Yo, Peter,” Ned whispers, a brand of unusual caution in his tone. He pokes Peter a bit with the end of his granola bar, which is just enough to jolt Peter awake. “There’s uh, something outside. Looks like a roller coaster.”

 

“Huh?” Peter says and looks around for a bit, turning his head to the window. It appears to be a giant metalloid ring, but it’s alien in the aspect of levitation.

 

It takes a few moments for him to adjust back to consciousness, but not before MJ beats him to Ned. Her eyes nearly flicker to the window, but not before looking at Ned first, raising a brow in the same unimpressed way she always does. 

 

“Give it up loser,” MJ coolly says from behind them, her voice holding the same wryness that it always does. “While I’ll suck up your stupidly groundless apocalyptic theories at lunch when I literally have  _ no one _ to sit with, you’re not doing it here too.”

 

Peter blinks a few times, not sure if his eyes are deceiving him. 

 

With less than perfect timing, (read: worst possible moment), the hairs on his forearm all simultaneously prick up, followed by an unusually concerning worry. Without drawing attention to himself, Peter stares at it for a whole before his eyes flicker back to the window, and there’s this newfound  _ concern _ that’s filling his gut.

 

Similar to how he feels when everything is dialed up to goddamn eleven and above, but not quite as severe. It does, however, feel like a warning that shouldn’t be ignored. Surely, a tingling feeling like that can’t simply be brushed off.

 

“Not true!” Ned wholeheartedly says in that same way he always does, though his voice leans more along the lines of concern this time. “Peter, do you see it too? I mean… it can’t just be nothing, right? Look at it, it’s massive!” 

 

At Ned’s not so secretive words, (read: practically yelling), heads beside his own begin to turn as well, as other kids have taken notice of the portal. It’s like there’s a goddamn boy band making a comeback.

 

The ring itself looks like a glorified, levitating roller-coaster in all it’s weird and unusual glory to a school bus of teenagers, some of whom (read: Ned Leeds) fantasize about this sort of thing. It appears to be heavily structured from metal, though Peter can’t decipher if it’s alien or natural.

 

“Uh…” Peter’s first words stumble slightly, not quite sure what to make of it. Sure, his heart is beating like a bitch but he can’t exactly turn into Spider-Punk in the bus. He opts to  _ try _ and brush it off, as if it were okay. “Uh, yeah. I’m sure the Avengers will have it down, in no time right? It’s probably nothing…”

 

It’s only at  _ that _ exact, bullshit lie that the truth hits him like a ton of bricks.

 

_ Oh shit. _

 

_ This was it. _

 

“You sure?” Ned asks apprehensively, his eyes now flickering with a newfound worry that Peter hadn’t seen before. “I dunno man, this looks intense… not really… a bomb threat or some jerk dealing weapons.” 

 

“Please,” MJ rolls her eyes, looking dubiously at Ned. “It’s probably some dumb alien again, and another chance for some heros rto flex their muscles. Really, you’re looking too deep into it.” 

 

Before Ned can even respond, Michelle lifts up her hand, which is just enough to shut them both up.

 

Peter doesn’t respond, not that he has much to say to begin with. The words are caught up in jumbles and fragments in the back of his throat, threatening to spill with no cohesion or awkward laughs as a leash this time. 

 

It was the _ very thing _ that Tony was unusually skittish about a couple days back in the lab. 

 

This moment in itself was the goddamn very reason why Tony asked him if he wanted more  _ protection-based _ upgrades. Stronger suit fabric, better protocols,  _ anything _ . Peter didn’t think much of it at first, laughing it off in the same socially inept and quirky way he always does, deflecting the billionaire's worry with a carefree smile.

 

There had been talks of a threat from deep space, but Peter simply assumed it was the goddamn Chitauri coming full circle with a comeback. He didn’t think much of it at first (mostly because he didn’t know a lot to begin with), but now he almost wants to punch himself for not noticing sooner, because it’s not his life at risk this time.

 

The bus comes to a quick halt at that, just as the teacher announces that it’s a pitstop to get some snacks and go to the much-needed washroom. Peter almost has to stop himself from letting a low ‘ _ thank god _ ’ under his breath. 

 

Rushing into the nearby washroom in the gas station, it takes  _ no less _ than 5 minutes for Peter to suit up into Spider-Man. It’s a small miracle in itself that no one else is there, but the goddamn opposite follows soon after. Apparently when one has cell service, it has no issue letting Peter Parker know that he has about six missed calls from Tony Stark.

 

Since he has some free time, he figures that there’s nothing wrong with letting Tony know that he’s gonna go check out the Roller-Coaster Portal.

 

“Hey kid,” Tony says, a slight hint of relief evident in his tone. “Listen, I saw what’s outside and I  _ do not _ want you anywhere near it, got it?” His tone is a little more authoritative than usual, almost as if he actually wants to  _ make _ a point to Peter.

 

“W..Wait…  _ what _ ?” Peter answers, faltering slightly on his words with a dissapointment that’s too reminiscent of a hormonal teenager. “Mr. Stark, I  _ got _ it--”

 

It takes no longer than a beat for Tony’s voice to cut him off.

 

“No, you actually _ don’t _ ,” Tony instructs in a matter-of-fact tone, clearly and intentionally leaving no room for a goddamn City Hall debate. He knows exactly what this is, and knows already that he wants Peter having no part in it. “Listen, kid. This… _ thing? _ It’s bigger than all of us, so you’re benched. Got it?”

 

“But---”

 

“Is that a protest?” Tony asks, his voice coloured with exasperation, the kind that only comes up when Peter feels like disobeying into the goddamn next universe.  Truth be told, he doesn’t have a whole lot of time and doesn’t exactly want Peter interpreting his very obvious _ no _ as a ‘ _ yes but no one has to know especially not tony right guys _ ’.

 

“Uh, yeah?” says Peter from the other end of the end, with just a hint of that ever recognizable teenage defiance.

 

_ Jesus, Peter really had to pick today. _

 

“Undo,” Tony corrects with the usual lilt of  _ asshole _ in his tone. “Benched, got it? You’re  _ out _ . Go buy some gummy bears instead, aren’t you at some gas station?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Pitstop,” Peter explains, slightly embarrassed. “Anyways, I gotta go so---” 

 

The call ends before Peter can even properly finish, though he still feels that same twinge of determination. 

 

It doesn’t take long to rationalize it as an  _ obligation _ , though there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his head that says ‘ _ hey maybe you should actually listen for once _ ’, though it’s dismissed as quickly as it came. The ferry incident also makes a glorious comeback in his mind, but that too is pushed aside.

 

Opening the window with ease, Peter easily gets to the ground, but not before webbing up his backpack to a nearby tree. Already, there’s faint noises of panic in the city from those who’ve seen this _ thing _ before, though Peter tries not to let it get in his head. 

 

“ _ Peter, I would strongly advise against this,” _ Karen’s chirpy voice says, though her tone is more coloured with concern than anything else. “ _ You are not properly equipped to handle that portal on your own, let alone get near it. I cannot stop you if you don’t listen. _ ”

 

“Well _ that’s _ a little passive-aggressive Karen,” Peter  huffs out as he swings to the next building in that same defiant, ‘I Totally Got This Under Control’ tone.“I  _ got _ this, don’t worry. Mr. Stark is probably freaking out over nothing,  it’s whatever.”

 

The reassurance of his own words do little to soothe the  _ very real _ and  _ very _ imminent wave of cautious anxiety pounding in the back of his head, (read: his conscience) but Peter simply shrugs it off as nerves. Rather, he allows that familiar rush of Spider-Man adrenaline to course through his veins, as it does a pretty good job of blocking everything else out.

 

“ _ I will be required to contact Mr. Stark if you actively put yourself in a compromising situation _ ,” Karen informs him in a matter-of-factly tone. Jesus, Peter couldn’t tell if it was an AI or May. “ _ You should uphold extra safety _ \---”

 

“Karen, there’s a literal  _ portal _ about to open. Can we cool it with the nannying for a bit?” Peter quickly asks as he lands upon a rooftop, slightly annoyed from being reminded about Mr. Stark’s precautions and  _ very _ real ‘ _ kid i told you to stay out of this _ ’ warning.

 

“Would you like me to locate the safest route?” Karen asks, her voice once again soft and chirpy.

 

“Uh, yeah yeah, sounds good,” Peter says, swinging to the building across. The portal itself doesn’t look too far away, perhaps six more blocks or so. “I think I could climb onto it, if I got close enough.” 

 

He allows his lenses to zoom in a little bit to get a better idea, only to see faint flicks of light gathering on the edges of the metal. That’s all he needs to know that the portal is  _ not  _ earthly whatsoever.

 

“ _ Locating optimal entry point _ ,” The AI chirps as Peter, with a slightly increased level of _ ‘oh god oh shit oh shit’ _ anxiety begins to swing just a  _ little  _ faster than usual. “ _ Entry point located. Bottom left, where energy is quite moderate. I would exercise caution.” _

 

“Ah shit,” Peter grunts under his already heavy exhales of breath, feeling the tenseness in his arms as he’s swinging as fast as one possibly can. Not to mention, it’s quite hard to focus when one’s consciousness is flooded with anxiety. “Shit, shit shit. Karen, any civilians?”

 

“ _ A large crowd is located by your entry point. Chance for casualties are high if the portal opens. _ ”

 

Though no one can visibly see it, Peter allows just a  _ few _ tears to trickle down at the thought of civilian casualties, the very goddamn thing he was trying to avoid to begin with. A few ragged breaths escape, though some are held back in his throat, almost daring not to come out.

 

“Alright, uh cool, t.. thanks.” Peter falters as he arrives beneath the portal, and  _ holy shit _ is it bigger than he initially imagined. Combined with the panics and screams surrounding him in the dangerously large crowd, it doesn’t do much good to his already skyrocketing anxiety.

 

_ Theoretically, he could simply web himself up unto the portal---- _

 

“Kid,” Tony’s voice interrupts him, and it only takes a beat for Peter to look up and see Iron Man himself. “Didn’t I tell you to I dunno,  _ stay out  _ of this?”

 

“Mr. Stark---”

 

“Nuh-uh. Zip,” Tony begins, in a matter-of-factly tone, and though Peter can’t see through the suit he already knows that he’s in  _ shit _ . “Aren’t you supposed to be on some nerdy field trip right now? Correct me if I’m wrong.”

 

Peter shrugs. “I guess,” he says, his voice slightly quieter before he catches a look of the portal again. “Look, Mr. Stark, I  _ got _ it, alright? It’s okay, I can do this.”

 

Tony hesitates for a beat.

 

The kid, as much as he believes it, isn’t invincible to god knows that’s coming out of that monstrosity of a portal. Sure, the suit can handle bullets, blasts and a good amount of radiation at most, but it’s  _ not _ what they’re looking at.

 

“Alright Underoos,” Tony gruffly says, deciding that if he’s gonna entertain Peter’s near death-wish, he’ll at least do  _ everything _ in his goddamn power to make sure that he’s safe while he’s at it. “Come, I got something for you.”

 

Peter cocks his head a little to the side in mild confusion, but trails behind Tony nevertheless. The threat of being benched still lingers between the two of them, but Peter has the assumption of something else. Something a little better than being benched, but also worse than doing it by himself (read: launching himself into a suicide wish), classic Spider-Man style.

 

Tony stops at a worn out alley down the block, where a ratty department store bag is shoved behind a dumpster. Peter stops in his tracks too, in an expectant kind of manner as he teeters back and forth on his feet.

 

“Is it my parachute? Cause I totally forgot to replace it---” Peter nervously babbles in the nerdy way he always does, mixed with good intentions and just a rapt kind of wholeheartedness.    
  
“Yeah, believe me kid, I know,” Tony says, picking up the bag. He quickly looks inside it before tossing it to Peter, who rips off his mask almost like birthday wrapping. “Minor upgrade. You remember it, right? Before you decided you were too cool to be an Avenger.”

 

Peter’s face lights up like the kid just got his driver's license, Star Wars premiere tickets and a date with MJ all at once.  _ Jesus _ , Tony sometimes forgets how much of an impact the small upgrades have on Peter.

 

“Mr. Stark, wow, man… you sure?” Peter asks, the usual nerdy teenage embarrassment colouring his tone as he pulls the suit out, in all it’s new and upgraded glory. “I mean, it’s cool and I really like it, but for real? This is like… man, a big step up.”

 

“Portal’s a big step up too, kid. C’mon,” He gestures to the suit, calling his Iron-Man suit back. “That thing isn’t gonna close itself. Don’t worry, your good’ ol buddy Karen is still on the new suit.” 

 

With those words, the Iron Man suit finishes assembling around him, allowing him to fly away while Peter changes.

 

The new suit itself almost felt a little _ too _ good. Almost everything felt different, from the stronger fabric to even the lenses on the inside, which appeared to be upgraded for a better range of sight. Though Peter didn’t want to call the shots on his own life, he could’ve sworn that he felt just a  _ twinge _ of invincibility.

 

“Alright, alright I got this… ” Peter mutters to himself as he steps out of the alley, swinging upon a rather large building in order to swing towards the roof’s edges. The portal appears to be gaining more momentum, which isn’t really the greatest green light to Peter.

 

He takes notice of the other Avengers there, though he also knows that he’d probably flip his earnestly embarrassing shit if he even spoke to them. Shooting a web at a few more buildings, the once fast and hard adrenaline begins to dissipate, only to be quickly replaced by that familiar twinge of ‘ _ peter is this really a good idea’ _ . (read: a horrible idea)

 

“Oh god,” Peter fretted a little in anxiety as his eyes glance up, seeing how high the portal is in the air. “Oh god, oh god oh god, that's like… really high.” Peter’s never been one to test the max height or durability of his webbing, mostly because he didn’t really have a suicide wish. 

 

Still, against the _ very real threat _ of his lunch making a comeback, he shoots his webs upwards and towards the metallic, energized edges of the portal. He then launches himself off the ground, only to be met by---

 

“Ah shit,” Peter suddenly whimpers, sounding more like a choked puppy than an actual cry. Tears gather at the edges of his eyes, but not before another sensation of pure, raw  _ anguish _ overwhelms both of his legs. “Ah… what was… that...”

 

“ _ It appears that you have suffered lacerations on both legs due to the sharp metal surrounding the edges of the portal _ ,” Karen informed him, her voice filled with a new kind of worry. “ _ You cannot receive medical attention from this high up Peter. I recommend going down _ .” 

 

“C-Cant,” Peter shrieks out in pain once again, clenching his teeth while trying to pull the rest of his body upwards on the portal, since the only thing keeping him up was his arms and chest. “G-Gotta close it, I just… whatever, i-it’s fine, I think It’ll be okay.”

 

The pounding wind that comes with high altitudes almost feels like even more salt in the wound, if that was possible at this point.

 

Though there’s still a throbbing, relentless pain in both legs, (he wonders for a second if he should do a goddamn suicide jump), Peter arm manages to get a solid grip on the portal, which he then uses to push himself upwards, repressing an urge to shriek out another  _ yelp _ once he actually begins to move. 

 

“C-Cant,” he wheezes out, nearly choking on his own breath in a way that felt like his own goddamn lungs were being choked too. “breathe… oh god… I just,” he pants, feeling the presence of more tears gathering around the edges of his eyes. Peter dry swallows for a beat, before clenching his jaw in order to restrain a yelp “c-cant…”

 

His eyes  clenched shut for a second, ragged breaths letting him know that he’s still there, that there’s a goddamn  _ city  _ to save. Said city didn’t need a teenage boy (read: Peter ‘ _ I Hate This _ ’ Parker’) crumbling beneath it all, they needed Spider-Man. Witty, strong, heroic Spider-Man.

 

Pushing himself upwards to stand, his breathing becomes all the more rapid, so much so that he can practically hear himself breathing heavily, not to mention the familiar salt of tears reaching his lips. “C-C’mon,” Peter grunted to himself, clenching his teeth in sheer pain as he lifted himself up. “C-C’mon, Spider-Man.”

 

Once both his legs were safely on the portal, Peter simply allows his bdy to slacken and take a goddamn breather for a beat, only to be interrupted by a increasingly louder  _ whirring  _ sound.

 

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.” Karen informs him, displaying the caller ID on the screen. Mr. Stark must’ve seen Peter dangling like some limp noodle for a bit on the edges, so he can only assume it’s about that.

 

Taking a few slow breaths to level his breathing, Peter can’t help but just  _ try  _ to have it all together for a mere second, if not more. “Put call through,” he says, watching as Karen does so. “Heya, Mr. Stark.”

 

“You alright kid?” Tony asks, with the same twinge of fatherly concern that Peter never really fails to notice, even if Tony himself would probably have acid reflux at the thought of  _ feelings _ . “Saw you up there, didn’t know what was going on.”

 

“Uh… yeah yeah,” Peter stammers nervously, sounding nonplussed in the same way he always does. “I’m fine, really. Just had a bit of difficulty y’know, getting up and all... “

 

Tony’s surprised how this kid still believes that he’s able to bullshit whatever comes to mind in that underdeveloped frontal lobe of his.

 

“Friday, read the kid’s vitals,” he says, both smoothly and flatly. In a mere second, an array of information displays itself on the HUD. “Yeah, no. Kid, the hell happened up there?”

 

“I uh,” Peter’s voice falters as he stands up. “Kinda got cut on my way up. It’s fine though, no need to come, I got it taken care of.” 

 

_ Bullshit _ , Tony thinks to himself. In the brief time that he’s known the kid, he knows that Peter happily sweeps his own problems under a goddamn active volcano if it means avoiding weakness, (or rather, what Peter  _ perceived _ as weakness).

 

“You do  _ not _ have it properly handled,” Karen informs him sternly, pulling up his own vitals for Peter to see. “I’d recommend immediate medical action for your lacerations.”

 

“Can’t,” Peter says, taking a closer look at the interior edges of the portal. He figured that if he could work up enough speed of his own on the portal in a reverse direction, it could’ve slowed down the buildup of energy in the other direction. “High altitude, remember Karen? You told me that.”

 

“ _ Your healing factor is beginning to work at the damage, _ ” Karen chirped, sounding slightly more pleased with Peter. “ _ However, there is risk for radiation on this structure, so I’d recommend getting to ground level as soon as possible. _ ”

 

Soon, the plates beneath began to move, so Peter started to run in the opposite direction, seeing if his plan of looking like a glorified hamster would actually work. Though his legs still throbbed like he had played hopscotch with the Devil himself, he knew that hell itself would reign down on Earth if he didn’t do this.

 

Sure, it was starting to slow down the buildup of energy on one side, but it also meant that Peter’s side had to take the brunt of it. Though he didn’t notice earlier, he could feel specks of heat and radiation gathering on his side, starting to look like a fire that hadn’t quite started yet. 

 

The heat itself combined with _ goddamn radiation _ to top it all off didn’t do wonders for Peter’s open lacerations, which were slowly starting to close up. The suit itself could probably take a good amount of heat, but Peter was more concerned about the person  _ inside  _ the suit. 

 

Already, he was starting to sweat a little.

 

“Damnit,” Peter muttered, allowing his eyes to glance at the ground below as he continued to move in the opposite direction. “Dammit, I’m gonna have to go back down. That's a long way down, but it’s cool right? I’ve uh, done worse..”

 

_ “You’ve never done worse, Peter,” Karen says. “The parachute will deploy, though you will still have to manually land safely. A fall from this altitude will leave you severely unconscious _ .”

 

“Alright, c-cool, cool.” Peter nervously stammered, feeling his stomach twist into knots at seeing how far down he had to go.  Not that he had a lot of time either, as radiation and heat were beginning to build up in larger amounts.

 

Glancing at the ground one last time (read: seeing what he’s gonna die on), Peter hopped off with both legs backwards, allowing the automated parachute to deploy itself as Karen instructed. Though it significantly slowed the acceleration at which he fell down at, Peter could still feel the rough wind outside, pounding away at his skinny body.

 

Before he knows it, he feels the entirety of his body _ crash _ on some sort of rough surface, and that’s the last thing Peter can identify before being whisked away into the familiarity of unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Upon hearing a loud, ugly crash, Tony simply assumed that it was one of the goddamn aliens who finally decided to give up. The kid had slowed down the release of energy from the portal, though Tony didn’t exactly know his vigilante’s whereabouts. Perhaps he was visibly embarrassing himself in front of the embodiment of America himself.

 

“Tony?” He hears Cap’s voice suddenly, filled with that usual sound of concern. In a beat, Tony mentally took a breather for whatever nonsense was going to follow.

 

“Speaking,” he says bluntly, keeping it short and curt. “Got something good or…”

 

“Did you… bring that kid from Germany?” Steve asks, his voice already wary and on edge, like he’s trying to walk around something he knows his volatile.

 

“Kid’s up on the portal,” Tony smoothly says, allowing his attention on the aliens to falter for a moment as he glances up. Though he can’t visibly see Peter’s body, he’s not sure how in hell he could be anywhere else. “Why?”

 

“He’s on the ground, like, here,” Steve firmly explains, with the kind of calmness that only someone like Steve could possess. “He’s unconscious… and a  _ child _ ? Tony----”

 

“Shut it, Rogers.” Tony speaks through his teeth, already knowing that he doesn’t need to hear another goddamn vowel from Steve’s mouth.  

 

From where’s he’s at, he engages his thrusters to their fullest capacity with that overwhelming sense of anxiety that seems to just  _ love _ laughing at Tony and his inability to protect a goddamn fifteen year old. He can feel his own heart about to collapse under the weight of it all, the weight  _ responsibility _ that this kid has brought.

 

Though he blinks, chokes, and holds back tears that linger at the corner of his eyes, he’s not able to repress the sense of sheer, raw  _ guilt _ that plunges through his chest. It threatens to consume him whole in a moment of sheer panic, so it’s a miracle in itself that he gets to the kid at that exact moment.

 

“Tony,” Steve acknowledges him with a grim kind of focus. “He’s alive, there’s a pulse. The kid had two lacerations, but it’s healing and stable… I think. From what I’ve seen, he looks unconscious. Don’t think it's too bad, its a good thing he had a parachute.”

 

“Yeah, no shit Rogers,” Tony gruffly says as he steps out of the suit, kneeling down to the kid’s level. Steve was right. The kid is indeed alive, but it’s hard to tell when his breathing is ragged and he looks like he has a passport to the underworld. “Listen, I got this. Not the first time the kid has gone toe to toe with this stuff.”

 

“What is _ that _ supposed to mean----”

 

“Nothing I’m going to elaborate on,” Tony says, examining Peter with that same grim, guilt-ridden focus he always trudges around with him. Aside from some nasty leg lacerations, Peter is surprisingly un-dead. “Kid’s gonna be fine, I’ll get him somewhere high up.”

 

As if he was aiming to aggravate Tony’s own goddamn heart, Peter suddenly begins this faint coughing, which then leads to the smallest opening of his eyes. Weariness coats his face, but he manages to just barely crack a grim smile. He winces for a beat.

“H-Heya, Mr. Stark,” Peter grimly croaks out as Tony helps him sit up, wondering  _ just _ how many times this kid will be able to taunt death. “P-Portal’s closed…?”

 

“Yeah kid,” Tony cracks a real smile at the kid and grabs his hand, still caught up in the sheer, loosening relief of the fact that he  _ didn’t _ die.  “It’s closed, for now. You did a good job at… not dying, I guess.”

 

“Learned from the best.” The kid says cheekily, his voice already filled with that lilt of innocence that Tony lost long ago. It only takes Peter a bit to notice The Star Spangled Man himself, who’s standing up in all his American glory.

 

Peter’s eyes suddenly go wide like he just met the Star Wars cast and got to shake their hand too, and Tony recognizes it as that childish admiration that he’s had from Peter for months now. Tony helps the kid stand up, which goes surprisingly well.

 

“C-Captain,” Peter stammers, still holding that same brand of inept innocence in his tone. “Man, you’re way cooler, what happened to your beard? Wait no don’t tell me, epic story right?” 

 

Steve can’t help but grin a little at the kid’s overwhelming admiration for him, though his eyes don’t miss the warning, grim look in Tony’s eyes from behind Peter. It takes a beat for him to get the point.

 

“Yeah kid,” Steve answers, entertaining the kid’s fanboy-like babbling. “Here, why don’t you get cleaned up? I assume your parents are worried?”

 

“I don’t have parents,” Peter answers in that simple, candid way of his, the happy lilt still present in his voice. “Oh crap, May is gonna kill me though… she’s gonna kill me dead.”

 

“That she will,” Tony speaks up, guiding the kid away from Steve in order to take a good, hard look at those lacerations. “but not before I beat her to it.”

 

“I’m doomed, aren’t I?” Peter says, giving Tony the same Kicked Puppy look he’s always had whenever he pisses May (or him) off.

 

“Mildly.”

 

“Knew it,” Peter grins a little at him, nudging his shoulder a little with the kind of innocence that Tony can never quite wrap his head around. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. For, y’know… keeping me not-dead.”

 

_ That _ hits Tony in a place, and at a speed that he wasn’t quite ready for.

 

“Uh, no problem kid.” Tony manages to say, a little at a loss for words for once. He’s not quite sure how Peter still manages to slip through his barricades with such ease, but it always leaves him with the earnestness of a father. He cracks a smile at the kid as they head towards a nearby alley, but he could’ve  _ sworn _ that something in his heart felt a little off. 

 

It’s unexpected and overwhelming, but it leaves him with a warmth that not even Steve Rogers can take away.  And it’s in that moment, seeing the kid teeter on his feet and have a such a bright smile on his face, that Tony can’t help but smile too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! This is my first shot at the whole 5+1 thing so I'm excited to write more :)


End file.
